De Anima
by Voici
Summary: Rogue takes a dive physically and mentally. This series will explore what it might be like to enjoy the fall.
1. Default Chapter

Title: De Anima Author: Voici Email: voici@mail2nemesis.com Rating: PG to begin with, oh wait, 1 f-word, does this catapult it to a R? Summary: Rogue takes a dive physically and mentally. This series will explore what it might be like to enjoy the fall. Disclaimer: None of the characters are from my creation. No doubt, I'm not only riffing off a Marvel/Fox property, but the work of the fan fiction community. Think of it as homage, my favorite cheese. Archive: Sure. Author's Notes: First attempt at fan fiction, I'd appreciate comments. This is the first of what is, in my mind, a long series that will swing from PG to NC-17 and especially play havok with the relationships of Wolverine, Rogue, Scott, and Jean. Let the angst begin!  
  
Her hair was a swamp of twigs, mud, and leaves. There was a ragged red scratch on her left cheek, and her eyes seemed to have dilated into obsidian pools. Storm was shocked; she had not realized how much of Logan had remained. No matter how traumatic the experience, she did not expect the fine-boned girl with a southern drawl to turn feral.  
  
What Storm did not realize, perhaps she didn't want to see it in herself, was the animal that nested in all of us. Perhaps only revealed when wounded or exultant, almost always numbed by the cardboard sustenance of sitcoms, light beer, microwave dinners, and routine. Most people did not understand that the fingernail biting, insomnia, and compulsive grooming were just the motions of a tiger pacing in its cage. Back and forth for hours, quiet, but not really tame, just waiting to find an object for its frustration. Being a mutant made it all the more difficult to remain calm-- Rogue had finally given up trying. She had stopped being domesticated from the moment she nearly killed a boy with her kiss.  
  
Rogue scurried backwards as the figure approached; she was too weak to feel anything but fear. She retreated from a friend only to feel the ground finally, literally, give way beneath her. This new pain was not red, but black and only lasted an instant before she entirely lost consciousness.  
  
---------  
  
"What happened? She looks like she's been run over by a truck." Jean Grey's words were rushed, but in every other way she was coolly competent-- knotting her hair out of her face and pulling on a pair of thick latex gloves.  
  
"She's bleeding heavily from a deep gash on her leg. I tried a tourniquet, but she's lost a lot of blood. I...I startled her in the woods, and she slid down into a ravine. There are other cuts from the rocks, but god, she's bleeding so much. Should I get Logan, maybe.," Storm looked almost as frightening as the slight form on the medical table, her white hair and t-shirt streaked with dirt and blood. "If I hadn't scared her..."  
  
"You know this wasn't your fault. Leave Logan out of this. I will not have two invalids on my hands. I know how it looks, but it is really a simple injury. No bones broken, she's not in shock." Loud pounding on the door interrupted Jean's assessment.  
  
"Damn it, Jean, let me in. Now!" Both women felt the hair on their arms prickle, neither wanted to deal with an enraged Wolverine.  
  
Even as she finished cleaning the jagged wound on Rogue's thigh, Jean replied evenly with only a hint of menace, "Logan, this is a medical environment, you will stay out. The situation is under control, and neither Rogue nor I need the additional stress."  
  
Slightly embarrassed by the idea that he could be causing Marie more stress, Logan almost pleaded, "I only want to help, Jean. Just let me in." More forcefully, " You know I can help."  
  
Storm had made her way to the door, motioning to Jean to continue her work. "Jean needs to focus on Rogue now, Logan, not fight with you. She has taken a nasty fall, but nothing out of the ordinary. The best thing you can do is stay calm.."  
  
"I could be through this door in two seconds," Wolverine interrupted, unable to continue arguing any longer, knowing that Marie was bleeding on the other side of the door. Smelling her blood.  
  
"Logan," a voice echoed in his head.  
  
"Damn it, Charles."  
  
"Come to my office, Logan. We can wait for news of Rogue's condition together."  
  
Wolverine considered cutting through the door anyway, though he knew it would only force the Professor to stop him. He had 12-inch metal claws and an elderly man in a wheelchair could take him out with a thought. It wasn't fair. "Just let me see her," he was back to bargaining.  
  
"I'll expect you in my office immediately," was the Professor's only response.  
  
Wolverine pounded the door one last time, and growled "Don't fuck this up, Jean," before heading up to the office. He almost immediately regretted saying it; he knew Jean was way too much of a perfectionist to give anything but the best treatment. But he was angry, he felt wounded, and there was no one to fight.  
  
He shouldn't have bothered with any remorse; the doctor had barely registered the threat.  
  
"Storm, call for Scott, and go get changed. You've had a hard enough day as it is."  
  
"Why is she still unconscious, Jean?"  
  
"I'm keeping her that way until I have the wound closed."  
  
"Do you really think you should do that.."  
  
"Please, just get Scott."  
  
Jean wasn't about to tell Storm, but the wound on Rogue's leg was the least of her worries. The turmoil in her mind, the rage and fear, almost overwhelmed her. No, she couldn't let Rogue wake up yet, even though she knew it was not her decision to make.  
  
---------  
  
Her only relief in seeing Scott was that she could behave as a doctor who needed help with a patient, not a woman who had betrayed her lover.  
  
Though she didn't want to admit it to Storm, especially with Logan within hearing, Rogue had lost a lot of blood. She would be okay for a little while, but she needed a transfusion. Rogue's deadly skin was just another complication of the sort she dealt with everyday; the RN at the nearest hospital might not be as complacent. Scott sharing her blood type made the treatment much less difficult.  
  
They both held their breath as she traced his vein. The touch still seemed intimate, even obstructed by heavy latex. "Scott." she started.  
  
"This won't take long will it." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
Jean got the hint, and returned completely to the diligent doctor act that seemed to be taking over her life. She finished the job, dismissed Scott, ministered to Rogue, rechecked the bandages, and cleaned the instruments. It may have taken ten minutes or two hours for all that she could feel of time in the stainless-steel lab. No longer caring if the girl was mad, almost hoping to have a chance to play doctor indefinitely, she let go of Rogue's mind. Jean, with everyone else, waited for the girl to wake up. Because when she did, they knew that their future was going to be held accountable for their past. 


	2. De Anima 2

Title: De Anima 2/? Author: Voici Email: voici@mail2nemesis.com Rating: PG-13 Summary: Rogue takes a dive physically and mentally. This series will explore what it might be like to enjoy the fall. Disclaimer: None of the characters are from my creation. No doubt, I'm not only riffing off a Marvel/Fox property, but the work of the fan fiction community. Think of it as homage, my favorite cheese. Archive: Sure. Author's Notes: First attempts at fan fiction, I'd appreciate comments. This is the first of what is, in my mind, a long series that will swing from PG to NC-17 and especially play havok with the relationships of Wolverine, Rogue, Scott, and Jean. Let the angst begin!  
  
This was the last time. The last time she would just huddle back into her placid, colorless existence. Rogue had awoken to the throbbing in her leg, but with new clarity to her thoughts. She had the Holocaust in her head; it hadn't destroyed her. She had the remembered pain of hot metal slicing through her flesh every time she was startled. For over three years, when she bit her tongue, she was never sure of whose blood she was tasting-Erik's, Bobby's, Logan's, her blood? That was how it worked; they were never really present. No way to fight, no way to run, because they were only shadows haunting her senses. So she tried to stop responding, decided before she acted what she was going to feel, what she would taste, and whether it would make her happy or sad. And yet after all this time, she still couldn't stop the pain.  
  
Jean and Logan just fucked each other. God knows he hadn't been celibate for the past couple of years, so she shouldn't have gone over the edge the way she did. But when she heard them, she was hit by the weight of every betrayal that Erik, Logan, and Bobby had ever felt, all of the rage and all of the desire to self-destruct. The shadows became lead, and she was nearly crushed. But this was the last time. Her anger, her pain had to be stronger; they needed to be hers.  
  
------  
  
"Will someone please explain to me what the fuck happened?" Logan was out of patience. Hell, he never had any.  
  
"I think we all know what happened," came Scott's bitter retort.  
  
"Listen, asshole.."  
  
Professor X interrupted, "Rogue was upset, she went out to be by herself, and she fell into one of the ravines. She will be fine, Logan."  
  
"She was missing for ten fucking hours, and it was storming. Don't tell me she was out there communing with nature, Chuck."  
  
Scott could remain silent no longer, "Yes, well, every action has its consequences."  
  
"Cut the crap, One-eye. A lot more is happening here than me and Jean getting it on. I know, Marie, she's too smart to break down over something like that."  
  
"You bastard. You know she's in love with you," Scott's voice melted into a simpering whine, "Oh, the brave Wolverine, he growls! He must know how to treat a woman. God, its pathetic."  
  
The claws shot out. To no one's surprise.  
  
Jean stepped between them, "Scott, I've never known you to be so juvenile; this is serious."  
  
"You are right, Doctor, thank you for the diagnosis. I just haven't been taking this mess seriously enough," he bit back.  
  
"You don't own her, you don't own anyone in this room. So why don't you just keep the stick up your own ass." Even Logan had a sort of poetry about him, when he was really pissed off.  
  
"Is it just me or did a girl almost die today?"  
  
Everyone turned to Storm. Professor X was tempted to just let them have it out; Scott needed it especially. But Storm was right.  
  
"I'm going down there." Logan let the claws slide back and left the room in silence. And with a nod of the Professor's head, they all made there way down. They feared it, but somehow in the young woman they hoped to find an explanation for their pain, a way to sort out the guilt before they tore each other apart.  
  
------  
  
"No use playing possum, kid. I know you're awake." The false cheerfulness in his voice hurt, especially since she could sense that an entire ring of people flanked her bed.  
  
She cracked a yawn and fluttered her eyes open, determined to hide her reactions, but allow herself to feel them. It was hard to acknowledge the rage without clenching her fists. "What're y'all doin' here? Can't a girl get some sleep."  
  
"How are you feeling?" Jean's words sounded kind, but she said them with a clipboard in hand.  
  
"Like someone put me on spin cycle. My leg's throbbing, but I'll live."  
  
"Not even a broken bone. You're tough," Logan reached to brush the hair out of her face, but winced as Rogue flinched away.  
  
"I'm a mess is all," she said in explanation, "I'll have to cut it all off, unless Jean gives me some morphine while I comb it out."  
  
For some reason, finding Rogue joking was more disturbing than finding her weeping. Jean tried a gentle probe, only to be blocked instantly. An awkward silence fell over the room as Rogue looked down into her lap and seemed of all things, almost to be amused.  
  
"I appreciate, yah'all visiting, but you know.."  
  
"Yes, you must be tired," the Professor signaled for everyone to begin filing out.  
  
Storm paused at the door, "Charles, what if Rogue was set up in my suite? This lab would depress Mary Poppins." Jean was already shaking her head, but Storm continued "But I would be there is she needed any attention, and I can change a bandage as well as Jean."  
  
"Charles, it isn't safe."  
  
"What would you like, Rogue?"  
  
Even if she felt condescended to, the pleasure of spiting Jean was too strong. "That would be great. Thank you, Ms. Munroe."  
  
"You know you can call me Ororo. We'll get things set up, and then Scott, could you carry Rogue up to my room?"  
  
"I'll do it," Logan immediately demanded.  
  
Storm looked uncertainly at Rogue, who with a practiced teenage shrug replied, "Whatever."  
  
"Do you think I could have some time alone with my patient, now?" Jean requested just a little too sharply. Rogue grinned; maybe Logan wouldn't be the only one getting under Dr. Grey's skin. That pleasure was going to be all her own.  
  
------  
  
Instead of stiffening like she usually did when Logan got to close, Rogue decided to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being held. She wasn't letting any fantasies or denial play through her mind; she was just enjoying the heat, the fiction of her cheek on his shirt, and the smell of his skin. It wasn't about Logan; it was about her. Why did it take her so long to realize it? As she shifted to allow her breasts to rest more heavily on his chest, she heard his breath catch. She knew he was uncomfortable. She just didn't care.  
  
"So." he said softly as he carried her through the corridors.  
  
"So what?" She breathed into his neck.  
  
"Jean says the gash on your leg is pretty bad, probably leave a scar." She couldn't help stiffening.  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, I was thinking, that if you could handle it, one little touch and the scar is gone. I blackout for a few seconds, and you can climb the stairs yourself."  
  
"I don't think so, Logan."  
  
"I know I'm not too pretty to have in your head, but you've gained a lot of control.."  
  
"It's not that."  
  
"What, then?"  
  
"Well, maybe I don't mind it. Scars are reminders, they give you history, something to constant to trace. Your body is smooth all over isn't it, Logan. Sure you've got that constant five o'clock shadow, but your face is perfect." The old Rogue would have blushed; instead Logan was the one that looked away. "Think about it. Has anyone ever been cut as many times as you have? Does anyone else have more reason to be etched all over? Your claws are the only story your body tells."  
  
" Marie, some things you don't want to know. Besides, we were talking about you."  
  
But she wouldn't be deflected, "I think we all need reminders, Logan. When we've been hurt, I don't think we should forget. Otherwise we'd just be animals repeating the same mistakes again and again."  
  
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, tighten his grip, and spoke roughly. "I was never any good at philosophizing. You have your reasons and that's enough."  
  
"Fine."  
  
They continued down the hall in silence. Logan laid her on the bed that Storm had prepared, tucking the blankets in around her, wondering if her eyes were always so bright and her skin so pale.  
  
At the door, he had to turn and ask his eyes at his feet, "Have I hurt you, Marie? Do you think I'm one of those animals?"  
  
"Like you said, it's just philosophy, Logan. Nothing for a man like you to bother with."  
  
He stared at her a minute longer, then nodded his head, closing the door behind him and leaving the chamber dark. 


End file.
